For months, the Inheritance Reform Bill championed by Draven had steadily divided the nobility.
Under Arden’s existing laws, a noble title and the lands attached to it could pass only through the male line. Should a nobleman die without a legitimate son, his estate, title, and responsibilities would pass to the nearest eligible male relative, regardless of how distant that relation might be.
Daughters, no matter how capable or devoted to the family estate, possessed no legal claim.
Draven sought to change that.
His proposal would allow a nobleman’s daughters to inherit in the absence of a legitimate male heir before succession passed to more distant male relatives.
To his supporters, the reform was both practical and just. They argued that a daughter raised to understand her family’s lands and responsibilities was often better suited to preserve them than a distant cousin who had spent little or no part of his life within the estate.
The proposal, they believed, would protect noble houses from passing into the hands of distant relatives who shared their blood but none of their values, sparing ancient estates from falling into careless hands simply because of an accident of birth.
To many others, however, the proposal bordered on the unthinkable.
The laws of succession had remained largely unchanged for centuries. They had survived wars, dynastic struggles, and changes of monarch.
Every marriage alliance, every title, every estate had been built upon that understanding, and to alter so fundamental a principle was, in the eyes of its opponents, to tamper with the very foundation upon which noble society rested. To alter the law, however well-intentioned, risked inviting uncertainty into one of the oldest institutions in the kingdom.
For Draven, however, the issue was more than a matter of political philosophy.
It was personal.
His father had died years earlier, leaving him the last surviving male of his immediate family. Though he had two sisters, neither possessed any legal right to inherit the Duchy.
Should anything happen to him before he had children of his own, everything his family had spent generations building would pass instead to his cousin, a man better known for his vices and gambling.
It was a prospect Draven found increasingly difficult to ignore. It was not a future he was willing to accept.
Yet while debate over the bill continued, another matter had quietly begun competing for the capital’s attention: the rumors surrounding Draven and Lady Cassandra Ashford.
What had begun as idle speculation had spread steadily through noble houses before finding its way into council chambers, gentlemen’s clubs, private dinners across the kingdom, eventually reaching members of Parliament.
Scarcely anyone of rank had failed to hear some embellished version of the story.
Draven had little interest in gossip. Gossip survived by being entertained, and he had no intention of fueling it. But doing so meant avoiding Cassandra until further notice, as being seen anywhere near her would only feed the rumor mill.
He intently dismissed the scandal as another passing amusement of high society. He believed they would eventually lose their appeal, provided no one dignified them with a response.
The council convened shortly thereafter but his mind still wasn’t settled. He wanted to speak to his friend. He knew that in situations like theirs, scrutiny fell far more heavily on the woman than the man, and he wanted to know how she was faring. But he couldn’t.
"As I was saying," he began, "our present laws assume that a distant male relative is always the better choice simply by virtue of his sex. Yet many daughters spend their entire lives learning to manage their family’s estates while those same distant relations have scarcely set foot upon them. This bill merely allows succession to favor capability where no legitimate son exists."
Several councillors nodded thoughtfully while others remained unconvinced.
Lord William Ravenshire was the first to speak against it.
"Your Grace," he said evenly, "no one here disputes the value of capable daughters. Nor do I question your intentions. Indeed, many noblewomen have proven themselves admirable stewards of their households. My concern lies elsewhere, whether this council should overturn principles that have governed noble succession for centuries."
A murmur of agreement spread around William’s supporters.
"Our inheritance laws were never intended to reward individual merit," William continued. "They exist to preserve certainty. Every noble house understands the line of succession and every expectation rests upon that certainty. If we alter those rules today, we invite questions where none previously existed."
The man was goading him, as he was fond of doing but Draven refused to stoop to his level.
"Certainty is of little comfort when it places an estate and title in the hands of an indifferent relative while denying it to someone raised to govern it."
William folded his hands upon the table. "Such laws were not fashioned for individual circumstances, however unfortunate, but to maintain the stability of the kingdom."
"The kingdom is best served when its laws remain sensible," Draven retorted testily.
Instead of responding immediately, William glanced briefly around the chamber before continuing. "Today you propose daughters inherit before male relations. Tomorrow someone else might argue that adopted heirs should inherit before blood relatives. Another may seek to divide titles among several children. Once succession becomes open to revision, where does the revision end?"
Murmurs of agreement sounded around them.
Another councillor soon picked up from where William left off. With the way they were so against it, one would think Draven had suggested something treacherous.
"And what becomes of these estates once such daughters marry? Shall ambitious husbands not seek to govern through their wives? Shall powerful families not use marriage to consolidate lands in ways never before possible?"
"The title and inheritance would remain the daughter’s by law," Draven answered calmly.
"An heir does not merely inherit a house, Your Grace," he said. "She would stand to inherit a title, its alliances, its obligations to the Crown, and its influence over neighboring estates. Such matters have long rested upon established custom. It is reason enough to proceed with the utmost caution before dismantling institutions older than any man seated in this chamber."
Draven responded to all their rebuttals calmly, a true feat and a test of his patience given how dim-witted most of their arguments were.
Lord chancellor observed the exchange without interrupting.
The debate continued for nearly an hour yet neither side yielded.
Eventually the discussion shifted, turning to the second matter upon the day’s agenda.
It was Lord Cedric Beaumont who finally steered the discussion elsewhere.
"There is another matter. Your Grace, do you truly believe this is the appropriate time to introduce legislation that demands the nation’s trust, especially given your current scandal. How can you expect anyone to take this bill seriously when you spend your spare time dallying with another man’s betrothed."